


Ash Wednesday

by propinquitous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Blasphemy, Bottom Castiel, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, M/M, Somnophilia, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1271422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propinquitous/pseuds/propinquitous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the world, Cas craves forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ash Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> Dubious consent and somnophilia both due to drug use.

_March 5, 2014_

Slowly, Cas pushes himself up by the heels of his hands.He ignores the grunts that come when he disrupts the heap of people around him and makes his way to a pile of clothes in the corner.The jeans could belong to anyone, but he’s pretty sure the t-shirt is his and that’s good enough.Orange bottles litter the floor and as with his clothes, he picks one at random, opening it to swallow a few oblong white pills before tossing it empty back to the floor.He heads for the exit, stumbling over the threshold when the noon-bright sun catches his face.He squints and starts walking before his eyes adjust.

Dean’s cabin sits at the north of camp, beyond the rest. Cas picks his way across the broken down cars and bits of junk that dot the meadow in between them, taking care not to step on any scrap and puncture his sandals. Acutely aware of his surroundings, he feels poised on the edge of something consumptive and large. There’s a felled tree at the edge of a clearing and he steps over it to cross to Dean’s front door.It’s open.Dean is not alone.Cas inhales air and exhales steam and wonders at the weather.

Looking around, he takes his first step into the cabin.Dean’s bed sits in the far right corner, and there are a few small stacks of folded jeans and shirts on the ground next to it; across from that there’s a long table covered with maps.The cabin smells like wet wood and the tin of the roof leaves a metallic tinge in his mouth.He walks toward the bed, reaching out, and pokes Dean’s shoulder experimentally; when he doesn’t move, he pokes with three fingers and pushes harder.Dean grunts and rolls a quarter turn, revealing his naked front and the woman’s breasts, pressed between her folded arms.Cas smiles. Finally, he opens his palm and pushes, hard, on Dean’s bicep.

“Wake up,” Cas’ voice is insistent.Dean grunts again.“Dean.Up.”

“Cas,” his name comes out rough to the center, “What do you want.” It really isn’t a question.The woman, Risa, Cas recognizes her now that her hair is out of her face, rolls on to her back and blinks.They make eye contact and he smiles as he gives a small wave from his knuckles.She scoffs, sitting up unselfconsciously, and winks at him.Cas smiles wider.He bends down and kisses her on the cheek, chaste at first, then moves to her mouth in a wet slide.She reciprocates for a moment before pushing him back by the shoulders.

“Get the fuck off me,” she laughs a little and shows her teeth.The mattress squeaks as she moves to stand and when she pushes Cas back again, he doesn’t fight it.Dean is still prone on the bed with his arm thrown over his face.

“I take it you want to talk to our fearless leader,” Risa says, shaking into her pants.Cas nods and turns his eyes back to Dean, who groans.

“Damn it, Cas.”He doesn’t get up.

“I guess,” Risa starts to say but her shirt cuts the sentence short as she pulls it over her face. “I guess I’ll leave you two alone.”She reaches down and thumps Dean on the temple.Her boots are on the floor and she kicks them toward the doorway, buttoning her shirt up as she goes.As she steps out on to the porch, she turns for a moment.Her smile is weak and she watches Cas settle in bed next to Dean, then plods down the front stairs.The grass is wet under her bare feet as she walks away.

“Cas,” Dean speaks for the third time and still doesn’t say anything.He lifts his arm from his face and stretches it under Cas’ neck, pulling his face into the tensed crook of his shoulder.Cas’ lays an arm across his chest. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry,” Cas hums and pushes his nose into his neck.Dean inhales before responding.He blinks.

“For what?”

“Do you know what day it is, Dean?”

“No,” his arm tightens around Cas’ shoulder and he wills his muscles to relax.“No, I don’t know what day it is.”Cas shifts to pull his body flush to Dean’s, who grimaces at the rough slide of jeans on his bare legs.

“Ash Wednesday,” Though his voice is childish, it has a gravity to it, a strange weight that Dean senses in the hot breath against his neck.A shiver slides up his spine.

“Ash Wednesday, huh?So what are you giving up for Lent?”

Cas is silent while he pulls his leg over to match his outstretched arm and rolls on top of Dean.He straddles his waist.Dean finds a hold on Cas’ hips and settles there, fingertips sneaking under the hem of his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.His hands curve over Dean’s naked shoulders; he leans forward.He closes his eyes as their foreheads touch and he exhales hot air that makes Dean choke for lack of oxygen.

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” Dean murmurs, adjusting the angle of his face so that their mouths are out of alignment.Cas follows him, though, and presses dry lips to Dean’s.It’s almost a platonic gesture until Cas rolls his hips, and Dean can feel his breath become erratic and shallow against his mouth.His own stomach drops and makes him nauseated with desire.

“What are you sorry for, Cas?” Dean rephrases the question.His grip on Cas’ hips tightens and it makes the bones dig into his palms.There’s a layer of sweat between them.

“Anything, everything,” he sighs.He continues pressing kisses to Dean’s mouth and Dean does not kiss him back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his tone dips with frustration.Cas can see wrinkles deepening across his brow, much deeper than the lines that reach from the corners of his eyes.He lets his mouth drop open a little.Dean tastes like other people, but that could just as likely be himself.

“Do you forgive me?” he asks and sits up.Dean’s expression eases.

“Yeah, sure, Cas.I forgive you.”

“I mean it, Dean,” he insists.He crosses his arms over his chest and pulls his shirt up and off.“It’s important.”Dean frowns.

“Okay,” his voice upticks on the second syllable as his hands slide up to Cas’ waist.“I forgive you.”

“Dean, please,” Cas whispers, bending back down.This time the kiss is open and Dean does not have time to be confused.He yields, warmly and without restraint.His hands find their way down Cas’ back to his waistband and slide underneath.They’re both cotton-mouthed from the previous night and there is little noise in the first few seconds before the room echoes with the wet sounds of their mouths against one another.Dean feels like a drought breaking.It’s been too long.

He pushes himself up until Cas is seated in his lap.His hands come up to hold Cas’ face, like he’s trying to keep from devouring him.For his part, Cas is trying not to let his full weight rest on Dean’s thighs, and absently wondering if there’s any way to get out of his jeans without breaking the kiss.Dean answers his question when he pushes him on to his back and goes for the belt loops on his sides.A moment passes when Dean has to pull back to get them all the way down.Cas takes the opportunity.

“It’s a day of repentance,” he says, voice high-pitched and unsteady.

“What is?”

“Ash Wednesday.”Dean almost laughs at the absurdity of Cas’ matter-of-fact tone.

“Cas, do you really think God cares about your sins?”Cas does laugh at that and it takes a second before Dean registers how hollow it sounds.He takes his time pulling the jeans off of Cas’ ankles.

“You’re missing the point,” he says with a smile and reaches down, bringing Dean’s face back to his level.

“Clearly,” he grunts, punctuating the word with a small thrust into the hollow of Cas’ hip.He shudders when Cas returns the gesture.

“I’ll show you,” Cas’ voice has leveled out but his pupils are dilated.Dean wonders what he took.

“Cas, are you okay?"It's not like him to be concerned like this, but there’s something unsettling about the sudden fixation. Cas hasn't talked about penance since Purgatory.

"Fine, Dean."And Dean has to believe him then, because there are few words left to pass between them.Cas pulls him down by the back of his neck and kisses him again, this time giving control to Dean.He takes advantage, pushing down hard with a ferocity that he can’t tell if Cas is fighting or goading when he pushes back and makes their teeth clack together, but then Cas lunges forward and bites Dean’s lips, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth and bruises him.He’s in a languid state; his limbs are loose despite his aggression.He feels like liquid pouring around Dean, flooding over and seeping into him.The urge to subsume, to protect, overcomes him and rolls over so that he lies on top.Their bodies are hot and rough against one another.Cas ruts against Dean’s hip and his arms are too pliant to hold himself up, but he tries.Dean feels the shaking that starts in Cas’ wrists and moves up to his elbows and shoulders, and reaches up to steady him.Breath comes heavy through both their lungs, Cas still pressing down, with his hips and his mouth.His thoughts drift casually through inappropriate memories, through singing praises and painting lamb’s blood sigils on wooden doors.He remembers the searing pain of the first contact he ever had with Dean and wonders if he realizes that he left a mark on Cas as well.His vision is lined in soft white.Dean’s mouth is warm.

Hands make their way up Cas’ ribcage, sliding over the ridges that are prominent on the outermost parts.Dean wonders if Cas has eaten recently but his hands continue down, over hips and over the slope of his ass. Dean grips and pulls Cas to him, and when he does Cas lets out a startled groan and collapses.He pushes him off and watches for a moment as Cas lies on his back, panting.With his eyelids heavy, drooping down to cover most of the iris, he looks like he’s passing out.Cas is holding onto consciousness with a worn, taught thread, and he imagines getting lost in a labyrinth.Dean gets the distinct impression that he should back off.He tries, he does, but he sees Cas spiraling underneath him and feels like violence, like affection is the only way to keep him above water.Cas thinks about feathers as his eyes close.

Dean climbs back on top of him and gently slaps Cas’ cheek.

“How’re you holding up?” his voice cracks.

“Hmm, fine, Dean,” Cas says and his voice has taken on a strange sing-song quality that Dean finds childish.It’s disconcerting.

“Are you sure?”Cas answers first by reaching his hand around Dean’s neck and pulling him back down, repeating what passed a few minutes earlier.He spreads his legs, making sure that Dean is settled in between and not to the side by hooking his knees behind his thighs.Dean hesitates.

“Are you sure?” he repeats.He’s nervous but he still bucks against Cas, driven by adrenaline and the long stretch of time since their last touch.Cas has not opened his eyes.“Look at me.”When he does his eyes are almost transparent.Besides that his face is blank, unaffected.His lips are parted slightly so that Dean can see the very bottoms of his front teeth, but there are no wrinkles around his eyes or nose that might give away a smile.Without knowing what else to do, he starts kissing, first the bridge of his nose and then down to cover his right cheekbone and jaw.He licks out toward Cas’ ear and is relieved when he shudders, thankful that he’s not so far gone.It’s encouraging and he bites down on his earlobe, wills him to keep feeling.Dean is terrified.

Cas still feels like melted chocolate and there’s less of a fog in his periphery, now.He tries very hard to keep his eyes open.The far-gone past presses forward in his brain and he does not welcome it, but there are so many images stored in his millennia of memory that he can hardly keep them back.To keep focused, he starts counting the freckles on Dean’s shoulders.They’re concentrated along the ridge of his scapula so that he has to peer up slightly to get a full view.His neck strains.He loses count when Dean shifts to move his mouth to the left side of Cas’ face and starts over, one, two, three.A soft sigh makes its way through him when Dean kisses behind his ear.

“What do you want, Cas?” he asks, and Cas tries to answer with his body, tensing his knees behind Dean’s and pulling their groins together.He lifts his hips and Dean shakes his head.“No.I want to hear you say it.” Cas wants to speak but only succeeds in letting out puffs of air in short syllables.His hold on consciousness is still precarious and he has to put Dean’s freckles out of mind, concentrating all of his energy on saying the words he needs.

“I,” he finally stutters, “I want you to fuck me.”The effort of it takes what little breath he has.Dean’s eyes narrow.“It’s okay, Dean, it’s always okay.”He reaches up to stroke Dean’s cheek as his own head lolls to the side.Cas doesn’t know where he’s found the energy to get out a whole second sentence, but he does his best to infuse it with the want he feels.Dean has to believe him; Cas needs this, needs Dean to touch him like he means it and like maybe nothing has changed, not ever, and that maybe everything is okay and they’ll wake up and walk out of the mildewed cabin and when they turn around they will see the neon lights of a motel instead of the jaundiced burn of a gas lantern.

Dean gives a small frown but nods, drawing his lower lip into his mouth.

“If you’re sure,” he says, leaning back in his knees and taking his hands from their place beside Cas’ head to palm the back of his thighs.The hair there is coarse.He scoots down and brings his face to the place where a thick tendon connects Cas’ thigh to his pelvis, next to his balls.His hair thins at this spot and Dean loves the uncharacteristic softness that comes before the swell.He nuzzles, hands still pushing up on his thighs, and lets his tongue slide out over the bare skin.Cas hisses when his tongue goes lower, swiping under his balls and becoming more forceful as he pushes lower, wetness building up on his tongue and sliding over Cas’ skin.He pauses for a moment when he reaches that spot, letting his sleep addled brain do too much thinking and wonder about the last time Cas showered, or the last person he fucked.He overcomes it.Their time here is limited.

After that he does not hesitate and is not ashamed.He presses forward, surging and searching and everything around his face is hot.Hair grazes his cheeks, his lips, his tongue.He sucks and pushes forward, pressing harder on Cas’ thighs so that he’s completely exposed.Above him, Cas lets out a long, low moan.He breathes Dean’s name and he is warm around his tongue.

Cas is still not completely awake and it’s harder to keep from that ledge with his eyes closed, but he can’t bear to keep them open and staring at the ceiling.No, he needs to focus completely on the feeling of Dean’s tongue, on how he feels debased, even now.Sex with Dean is still novel, the things he does still make Cas shake like no one else has been able to.It’s comforting, this depravity.Cas’ lungs fill sharply as Dean circles a finger in tandem with his tongue.He bears down, hands tight in the sheets.His mouth is going dry again from panting.

His senses overwhelmed, Dean presses forward, lets his finger slip in.He’s always thought that sensation was impossibly tight and really, it is, it’s slick and hot and he cannot wrap his mind around it.One of Cas’ hands untangles itself from the sheet and finds Dean’s hair, guiding his mouth back to his neglected dick.He doesn’t resist, and meets the demand with a crook of his finger that makes Cas’ eyes finally open again.He smiles around Cas’ dick and pushes a second finger in as his mouth slides down.

It feels like worship, being under Dean’s hands and mouth like this.Cas feels adoration in the pull of his tongue on the underside, in the bend of his fingers that sends him so far into the stars he almost remembers what it felt like before he fell.He holds on to Dean’s hair but tries not to push or pull too hard, instead taking out his pleasure in the grip of his left hand on the sheets and the screams that are clambering their way up his throat.He can’t keep his mind from wandering, from images of galaxies and supernovae that cloud his head and confuse him.He thinks about synesthesia, wonders if he perceives Dean’s touch as celestial bodies and his vision starts to mist when a heat builds low beneath his hips. Dean stops.Cas almost starts crying at the emptiness.His grip relaxes and he thinks his knuckles must be arthritic.

“Dean,” Cas’ voice is an impotent whine, “Please, I’m so sorry.Please.”Dean looms over him now, eyes wide and mouth open.

“I still don’t understand why you’re apologizing,” Dean says.He brings his face back to Cas, who catches the scent of his own musk and sweat.

“I just,” Cas begins, trying to clear his mind.He breathes for a moment, tightening his legs around Dean’s waist as though he’s afraid he might up and leave if Cas gives the wrong answer.This goes on for several seconds, or it could be hours in Cas’ state, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t want to because he cannot think of a way to articulate the pull of his heart toward the ground.He comes to at the feeling of Dean’s lips.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dean says, and his voice feels soft in Cas’ mouth.He kisses back, wraps arms around his neck so that each hand holds the opposite elbow, legs still tight around Dean’s middle.

“Please,”

“It’s okay, Cas,”

“Please.” Dean stops trying to comfort him with words and pushes himself up instead, pulling Cas’ arms off of his neck. Then Cas laughs, full and broad, gums showing.Dean looks down, tilts his head, tries to gauge where Cas is but can’t.He leans and reaches off the bed, Cas’ legs still around him, and rotes around underneath until he finds the lube, wrapping his fingers around it and heaving himself back up.He rocks back on his knees and the gel is cold on his fingers.It’s sticky and slick at the same time and Dean has never liked the feel of it.He reaches down.Cas gasps at the cool sensation between his legs.His cock has gone soft in the interim, but the sensation is enough to start him going again, to pull him out of the pit of memories that he can’t stop receding into.He lets out a sob as Dean presses two fingers in.

“You okay?”

“Always,” Cas says, and again Dean feels relieved at a reaction he recognizes, the insolence in Cas’ voice all but palpable.He briefly bends his fingers and pulls back out, and smiles when he goes back down on his palms and lines up, slicking the rest of the mess on his hand on his dick, which aches, now.Cas closes his eyes and tries not to gasp as he feels the head of Dean’s cock press against him.His breath comes too quickly.Dean coos and shushes above him as he keeps going, slowly to give Cas time.He slips into absentmindedness as he waits for Cas to adjust, and when he bottoms out he thinks about the few times they’ve been together like this since the apocalypse really started.

He understands now.As he slides out, pushes back in and hears Cas’ voice, the stuttered _Ohs_ and the frequency with which his moans are falling apart into low pitched whines, he understands.He thinks about the beatings they’ve taken for each other, the ones they’ve inflicted on one another.This should be gentle and not like what they've been doing these last months.What they're doing now feels heavy, leaden, and Dean realizes that he has not been tender toward Cas in a long time.He reaches up to push the unwashed hair from Cas' forehead and supports himself on one arm for longer than he should, trying to maintain the contact.Cas tilts into it, reveals a long line of neck that leaves Dean breathless.He can't stop himself from biting, from sucking, from leaving a long line of purple from his jaw to his clavicle.  

Cas keens at the pain.He feels like his skin is being pulled into Dean, the burn and push and pull of his cock mirroring the sting of the teeth on his neck.He thinks about the envy he has felt watching Dean lead women into his cabin, for even wanting to take their place and follow him at all.The images come in clouds, radiating around his vision and making him float with regret.It’s one of his smaller sins, but he feels crushed under the weight of it.He wonders if Dean has ever felt that pang. 

Dean’s voice echoes his name over, the short syllable punctuated with each thrust.This is more contact than they’ve had in months, in what might be forever.Cas has never been as corporeal as he is now - he’d always seemed semitransparent, abstract.He hates himself for thinking it, but Cas the addict, the burnout, is more tangible than Castiel ever was.To be sure, there are times when he misses the surety of the burn on his shoulder, but he keeps fucking, keeps aching at the tautness underneath his hips, keeps hoping that Cas will respond like he’d always dreamt.

Cas can’t see.The green spots of Dean’s eyes lie somewhere on his horizon, sinking fast.He tries to keep track of the freckles, creating lines of longitude and latitude and trying to craft a globe over Dean’s back.He is certain that he will be able to.His focus drifts from the pain and ache and pleasure of Dean inside him, and he feels guilty that his mind has drifted so far.His hands span across Dean’s lower back encouragingly, pressing him in and letting him relax outwardly.He tries to say Dean’s name but only vowels come out.His mind settles back on maps.

Heaving, pressing, touching, Dean wants Cas to feel good.He knows that pleasure has been Cas’ singular quest in the last year, since the last edges of reality frayed and sent them into this camp.Still, he wants to make sure Cas feels forgiveness, some sense absolution in it, even though he’s already told him a thousand times.He doesn’t think he can fully convey how much he hurts for him, how badly he needs him to feel good and whole.They need to keep going.Dean slips out momentarily and gasps, but quickly gets back into a rhythm.

When he considers it, Cas thinks he wouldn’t mind if he didn’t come.He doesn’t think he will, anyway, and lets himself fall into a trance at the rhythm Dean’s keeping.He brings his arms back around his neck and loses track of the boundaries between his palms and Dean’s skin.Consciousness slipping, Cas’ eyes fall closed.

Dean inhales, exhales back on to the sweat of Cas’ shoulder.He is damp underneath him, mouth parted and eyes closed like they should be, but still Dean begs him to open them, to look, to maintain contact.This is important, he thinks, he needs to see Cas’ eyes.It’s the one part of him that time hasn’t really taken a toll on, the one part where he can see the angel, the man that he was before the end began.

“Cas, look at me,” Dean’s voice comes out thick on his tongue.He repeats the command and Cas doesn’t respond.He shifts, slips out and reaches up to open Cas’ eye with his thumb.  

For a moment he freezes; Cas doesn’t wake up, doesn’t move.Then he shudders and Dean can see the lowest parts of his iris, dark circles above dark circles.

“Cas?”

“I’m fine.Dean, please.Don’t.Don’t stop.”Dean’s eyes widen, squint.

“Are you sure?” He’s lost count of how many times he’s asked.

“Yes,” Cas squeezes around all parts of him.Dean can’t deny him that.He feels himself harden again, start moving without fully knowing why.Cas bucks, whines.The weight of an hour ago builds around him and drops. He searches the horizon.

“Please, please, Dean,” his voice is unsteady,“Please, I,” And his voice falters, unsteady in the press of his head against the pillow.He smells mildew.

“It’s okay, Cas, it’s okay,” Dean knows his name and says it like a rosary.

“Please, I’m so sorry,” Cas says and he can feel a tingling around his shoulders.

“I forgive you, I forgive you,” he says and the chanting continues.“I forgive you.”His breath comes in three quarter time.

“Dean, I can’t,” It hurts, everything around him and everything above him and it feels good but it hurts, it’s an ache, a subtle burn that radiates from his stomach and up to his shoulders.

It’s the spreading heat below his pelvis that makes Dean stutter.His words come out in a trickle, an unsure flow of articles and pronouns that can’t form sentences.Cas bucks beneath him, feels the surge from his tailbone that craves Dean, that presses forward and upward and lets loose white all over their stomachs.Cas cries.His tears are hot on their cheeks.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dean’s voice is quiet as he keeps moving.There’s still a part of him that feels guilty, and so he kisses at the salt on Cas’ face, moves slower, doesn’t push quite so deep.The feeling is softer now.

“Are you all right?” he asks, but doesn’t stop his shallow movements.

Cas swallows and nods, eyes tight at the inner corners.He brings his arms up around Dean’s neck, not sure when they fell to the sheets but suddenly needing to touch, to run fingertips over something warm.He still can’t open his eyes.Dean repeats the question.

“I’m okay,” he finally decides.Dean hums, and Cas feels a slight pressure when Dean’s arms wrap around his ribs.

“If you’re sure.” So then Cas nods, nose brushing against Dean’s shoulder.After that they sleep.Dean only wakes briefly to push his face into Cas’ hair.Several seconds pass before he realizes the year.For a few hours, a few minutes, Dean isn’t sure, but for some while he drifts in and out, the smell of tobacco and mold and the acidic tang of bile in his nostrils.Eventually Cas gets up, pulls on his clothes.He leans down to press a kiss to Dean’s forehead, so soft that Dean almost forgets about it when Cas straightens to button his fly.

Dean doesn’t falter as Cas walks out the door at just after three in the afternoon. Embarrassingly, Cas turns back, like he always has, that enormous human weakness of his, or is it capability?It doesn’t matter, no, not really, because it’s all done now.So Dean watches, meets Cas’ gaze.He returns the look with only a smile, a slight quirk of his lip that Dean has seen so many times as an invitation, a gentle suggestiveness he knows to be gone.But he could find Cas tomorrow, he thinks.Couldn’t he?Cas will be there in his bead-draped cabin when he wakes up, covered in the sweat and grime of other people.This is a fact.Dean does not worry.

Cas doesn’t turn into a pillar of salt like others do. He’s not human, not exactly. He can afford to look back.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for about a year. It was also previously published, but I didn't like where it was headed and took it down to rework it into a one-shot.
> 
> Also, I hope it goes without saying - but this kind of thing isn't acceptable in real life, where there is no such thing as dubious consent.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Recidivism](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843427) by [domesticadventures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticadventures/pseuds/domesticadventures)




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